


A Quiet Christmas

by emynn (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still stuck at St Mungo's more than six months after the death of the Dark Lord, Severus receives a not so unwelcome visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Quiet Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for adventdrabbles 2013 prompt #20: Christmas fudge

Severus closed his book and set it carefully on his bedside table. Merlin, but he was _bored._ After nearly seven months being stuck in St Mungo’s, even the excruciating waiting period to see whether or not the Wizengamot had decreed he’d properly atoned for his sins seemed like an exciting way to pass the time. 

But no, instead he’d been trapped in his bed, still barely strong enough to walk to the loo to take a piss, all while the Healers struggled to find a way to heal his larynx so he could regain his voice. 

A knock sounded at his door. “Snape? May I come in?”

A familiar voice. It was only due to his intense boredom that Severus acquiesced and, with his wand, signalled his response: three sharp raps against the door. _Yes, you may._

Yes, it was only due to his mind-crushing boredom. Any other day Severus would have sounded out two knocks ( _hell no_ ) or, even more damning, silence ( _stay the fuck away, you bloody imbecile_ ). 

It was certainly not due to the fact that the last time Harry Potter had visited Severus had noticed how much he’d filled out since that time he’d seen him dive, naked, into that frozen lake last year. Nor the way Potter’s gaze would occasionally linger, just slightly, but long enough for Severus to imagine that perhaps he was looking at him with something akin to interest and most assuredly not with disgust. And of course, nor the fact that sometimes, when Severus pretended to be asleep, Potter would take his hand.

That had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Potter entered the room, a package in his hands. “Hello,” he said. “Happy Christmas.”

Was it Christmas? Severus hadn’t realised.

“I brought you a present,” Potter said, handing the package to Severus. “It’s not much, but…”

But it would be a break in the monotony, to be sure. Severus carefully peeled off the wrapping paper, not wanting to reveal his eagerness. He hated feeling this much like a child, so eager for a gift. But he had to admit, in these endless days and nights, that even a surprise from Potter was a worthy event. 

“It’s fudge,” Potter explained once Severus finally finished opening the package. “Mrs Weasley helped me. Said it was her tried and true Christmas fudge recipe.”

Severus nodded. He’d even had it once or twice. Confiscated from the twins _(one of them had died, hadn’t they? He could hardly remember.)_ , of course, but he’d had it nonetheless. He took a piece out of the box and nibbled on the corner of it. It was sweeter than he’d remembered, richer.

“Like I said, it’s not much,” Potter said. “But I figured it had to be better than that mush St Mungo’s calls Christmas pudding.”

Severus took a larger bite.

“I almost got you a book as well, but I figured you didn’t need any more,” Harry said, gesturing at the collection Severus kept stacked on his windowsill. “I reckon it gets kind of boring, when the only thing you can do to entertain yourself is read. Hermione wouldn’t think so, but –”

Severus rolled his eyes, and Potter laughed.

“Yeah, I figured,” Potter said. He sighed, and stretched his arms behind his head, mussing up his already messy hair. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to come up with some ways for you to amuse yourself while you’re still here, but I’m just at a loss. Nobody else has any real suggestions either. ‘If only he could brew potions,’ they say. ‘If only he was well enough for a light duel.’ Oh, and of course, ‘have you tried giving him a book?’” Potter shook his head. “I wish I knew more about you. You’re a hard nut to crack. But I reckon that was intentional.”

Finished with his piece of fudge, Severus reached for another.

“You must like that. Good, I’m glad.” Harry took a seat in the chair next to Severus’ bed. “The Healers didn’t approve, exactly, but they didn’t disapprove either.”

Severus couldn’t quite hold back a small smile. That sounded like Potter. And Severus did so enjoy irritating the staff at St Mungo’s. He took another nibble of fudge. 

“What would you like to do?” Potter asked. “You’re free, you know. Other than your injuries. If the Healers would get off their arse and bloody do something, you could be going about living your life, finally without having to answer to Voldemort. Or Dumbledore, I suppose.”

Severus felt his face burn. He hated remembering that moment of desperation, when he was certain there was no way he’d survive, and he’d spilled his most vital memories for Potter to view. How humiliating.

“I’d think you’d just like to get out,” Potter said. “Leave England for a while.”

He wouldn’t mind that, actually. He’d always wanted to travel to Italy. With no ties or obligations, he might finally be able to. 

But really, it was the small things he missed most. Long walks outside, a fine wine, even an occasional jaunt in the air on a broom.

_Or without._

Ah, those had been beautiful times. The Dark Lord may have been the one to teach Severus to fly without the aid of a bewitched household object, but it remained one of the purest pleasures Severus had ever experienced. When he flew, he was completely in control, powerful, safe from those who wished him harm. But he was also _light_ , so incredibly light and unencumbered by gravity’s pull.

“We should celebrate,” Potter said. “Whenever you get out. Maybe go get supper. There’s this nice place only a ten minute walk from my flat that I think you’d like.”

Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I know when you were at Hogwarts you always seemed the most pleased at supper when the House-elves served mutton, and this place serves a great curried mutton.” He shrugged. “Anyway, we could make a night of it. Maybe I could take you flying later. I’ve been able to find some really beautiful spots.”

Severus tilted his head. It almost sounded like Potter was asking him out on a date.

“It kind of sounds like I’m asking you out, doesn’t it?” Potter asked. “Well, really, I guess I am. But you’re not tossing me out on my ear, so I guess that’s a good sign.”

Severus carefully recovered his box of fudge and set it beside the book on his bedside table.

“Damn, I wish you could talk,” Potter said. “And not because I’m selfish and I just bloody miss it, and not just because you deserve to have emerged from this war unscathed, at least physically. It’s just that I wish I knew when I was just being an idiot and I should shut up before I make myself sound even more ridiculous.”

Severus shot Potter a pointed glare.

“Right,” Potter chuckled. “I guess you’d figure out a way to let me know regardless.”

Severus nodded.

Then, a strange thing happened. He felt the desire to _touch_ , to be close with Potter. What’s more, he didn’t want to pretend to fall asleep and then wait there, wondering if that would be one of the days Potter cautiously took his hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb.

And so he reached out, took Potter’s hand, and squeezed.

Potter’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Wow,” he breathed. “Wow. Okay.”

Severus moved his thumb in small circles, like he remembered Potter doing. He’d always found it rather soothing.

“You know, I have a confession to make,” Potter said. “I know those times when I’ve held your hand you haven’t really been asleep.”

Severus attempted to tug his hand away, but Potter held on.

“No, wait. I’m not trying to embarrass you. It’s just… it felt nice. And you let me, so I thought maybe… maybe there was something? Something we haven’t really been able to speak about, but maybe one day we will? I hope.” He paused. “It gave me hope.”

It was maudlin, sentimental drivel, but Severus supposed Potter couldn’t really help it, being a Gryffindor and all. He offered his condolences by squeezing Potter’s hand.

“Good,” Potter said. He looked over at the clock that hung on the wall of Severus’ room. “Well, I’m already late for Christmas dinner at the Weasleys, so a few more hours won’t hurt anyone. If you want, I can stay here for a while, and we can just…” Potter held up their entwined hands. “Yeah?”

Severus nodded. Then, on second though, he brought Potter’s hand to his lips. His skin was softer than Severus had imagined.

A visible shiver ran through Potter’s body. “Wow,” he whispered. “Yeah, okay. Good.”

Severus sighed and leaned back into his pillows.

_Yes._

_Good._


End file.
